Our Story
by HarryPotter'sgirl17
Summary: After months of working on his writing skills and giving every one else their happily ever afters, Fakir is ready to write the story he has wanted to write from the beginning. Will he be her happily ever after after all?
1. Epilogue or Prologue?

**Prologue or Epilogue?**

_Once upon a time..._

_That is how many of these stories start, isn't it? Those words pique your interest and make you lean in to listen to the tale that is spun in front of you, sparking your imagination and giving you reign to dream. Yet, you never actually __meet__ the characters of these stories, you never hear how it feels to be a part of those life-and-death struggles..._

_You never hear how their hearts were ripped to shreds as they watch or listen to a fellow character suffer._

_This is the continuation of a story that was concluded many months ago. Why add to a story that was already finished, you may ask? It is because it wasn't complete; two hearts, two hearts overflowing with emotion did not get their happily ever after. Yes, the prince and princess rode off into the sunset, but what about everyone left behind?_

_What about __them__?_

_The knight that gave up his sword in order to stop the tragic tale from ending the way it was going to, the duck who became a girl, who became a princess to help the prince of the story in order to see him smile, who held in her confession of love in order to keep helping him and stood there, smiling and a duck once more, as he choose another to stand by his side..._

_So, a new story was started and an old one was continued. In this story, everyone was going get a happy ending, for the writer has a personal interest this time, other than watching a tragedy unfold. He has been practicing and writing for the townsfolk for days now, making sure his skills were polished until they shone. Now, he is ready._

_Ready to finish the story he started before fear of losing her had caused him to put a knife through his hand, to stop the words that were causing her pain, ready to do more than watch, tears flowing down his eyes, as he wrote of the dance filled with hope that allowed the prince to defeat the monster raven and save his princess. A title that should have belonged to__her__._

_Yet, in a selfish way, the writer was __happy__ that the prince had chosen another to be his princess, for it meant that his happily ever after could happen, that the one he loved wouldn't disappear in a flash of light and that he could claim her as __his__ princess._

_The writer hoped that his selfishness wouldn't hurt the one he was writing this story for, that the duck that was now nestled on top of the cabin he shared with Charon would once again be happy as a girl, only this time, __he__ would be her prince, her protector, and she wouldn't disappear if she confessed to loving him._

_That was another reason why he had chosen to wait to start the story of the duck-turned-girl-than-duck again; he was afraid, after he swore that he would never feel fear again, that she would despair of being a girl again, still be in love with the prince or consider the writer only her friend, breaking a heart she couldn't put back together again._

_Days and nights of wondering had only ended in shadows under his eyes and a grumpy attitude that earned him upturned noses and concerned quacks from that little yellow duck that held a special place in his heart. _

_The ex-knight finally decided to write that story, __her__ story, late last night. After lying in bed, unable to sleep as usual, when he had climbed out of bed and onto the roof, silently creeping to the softly sighing form of his muse as she slept._

_Laying beside her, the writer looked over the treetops to the town in the distance. Now that the wall was gone, people had been moving into the surrounding forests, almost unconsciously trying to put some distance between them and the tragedy that had happened there. The writer couldn't blame them, it was the first thing __he__ did. _

_From this position, the first thing the writer could see was the bell tower on top of the ballet school, the school that he first met her, first came face-to-face with the clumsy, persistent, interfering, caring girl that a simple duck had turned into._

_At first, he had been driven by the fact that she had been getting too close to Mytho, the prince of their story, and was determined to help him get his heart back and was cruel to her, fearful of the pain Mytho would feel if his heart was returned. He warned her away, yet she stayed close and even watched over him in her own clumsy way which earned his grudging respect but not his trust._

_Finding out that she was Princess Tutu wasn't as big a surprise as finding out she had been the little duck that he had rescued. Princess Tutu had much of the same characteristics as Ahiru, although Princess Tutu was a bit more graceful. Her being a duck was more embarrassing than surprising, due to the fact that he had been __crying __once when they had met. _

_Afterward, they had formed an uneasy alliance and his feeling for her had grown from annoyance, to friendship, to compassion and then finally love. He had tried to show her that when they danced their pas de deux at the bottom of Lake Despair and even swore to be by her side even if she did stay a duck. A promise he had kept for six long month, long enough for him to miss the insistent chatter that he used to hate about Ahiru, but now added to long list of things he lost._

_Petting the duck beside him, the knight-turned-writer swore that he would try to write their happily ever after, try to give her the happiness that she never got and deserved more than anyone else. He, Fakir, was going to write a story as full of hope as her last dance had been._

_May Ahiru forgive him if this wasn't what she wanted. _

_--_

_**So our story ends for today. What awaits us tomorrow? A happy ending? A sad ending? Or maybe...?**_

**A/N: This is my first Princess Tutu fic and I really, really want it be good. I saw the anime and absolutely feel in love with it. I HATED the ending and wanted, no, **_**needed**_**, to add a ending for Fakir and Ahiru. Please review the chapters I add , I want this too be GOOD!!**

**Thank you!**


	2. Ahiru's Decision

**Chapter One: Ahiru's Decision**

Rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand, Fakir dropped his pen and stretched his back over the chair, trying to get the cramps and strains out from sitting in one position for an entire night. He had not moved since he started and he now had the first chapter to a story that would hold the town in it's grip again, only this time he was sure it wouldn't present the tragedy the story before had.

Sleep was nibbling at the back of his mind, but he needed to see if this had worked, if this story would come true.

He had been writing nonstop, almost obsessively, ever since the dabble he wrote about the baker's pies had come true. No sooner had he finished that story, had the ink dried, then an unholy squawking had filled the air.

Fearful that another monster raven had attacked their village, the ex-knight had grabbed his barely used sword, which had been resting against the desk in case there had been any use for his meager skills, and darted outside; only to stop short at the sight that greeted him.

Twenty-four blackbirds, not ravens but some other creatures, were flying around the town, cawing in disgruntlement at their sudden appearance. None seemed to be threatening the townspeople, although Fakir had seen one peck the baker's wife on the nose. It was a sight that made most laugh, though the baker's wife had other thoughts and there was meat pie on the menu that night.

Reflecting once more on the power of his writing and the lesson not to write idly, Fakir pushed himself to his feet and, pausing only to wipe the ink off his fingers, the knight-turned-writer made his way out of the cabin and through the forest to a small pond he knew of, locking the door behind him and praying that this story ended well.

Not for him, but for **her**. The one that deserved a happy ending more than any of them, the one that worked the hardest for the happily ever afters that were given; all with a smile and a happy word-sometimes more than one. The one that changed it all, and even **him**, for the better.

After Fakir had left and locked the house, a portal opened behind him with a muted pink glow, a tap-tap-taping sound preluding the arrival of a small, child-like puppet with a drum who looked around the living room before exclaiming, "I'm in Fakir's house-zura!"

Padding around the house in time with her drumming, the puppet reviewed all the old and new things in the various rooms before she made her way back to Fakir's room and to the previously vacated desk and hopped onto the chair the boy had just been sitting in.

"Oh! A story-zura!"

'_Once upon a time,'_ Uzura started, sitting down with a 'plop', the stack of papers resting on her lap, being too heavy to hold upright, '_There was a puppet._'

_'There was a puppet who became a prince,'_

_'A prince who gained a heart,'_

_'A girl who became a raven,'_

_'A raven who became a princess'_

_'A boy who became a knight,'_

_'A knight who became a writer,'_

_'Then, there was a duck.'_

_'This duck had changed more than any of the others.'_

_'First, the duck changed into a girl.'_

_'Then, the girl changed into a princess.'_

_'Then, the girl changed back into a duck.'_

_'Yet, the duck changed more than just her appearance.'_

_'She changed the others as well, all for the better.'_

_'She gave the prince his heart, allowing him to give and receive love,'_

_'She gave the girl a friend, showing her what friendship and acceptance were.'_

_'For the raven, she held in her love and let the raven be the prince's companion.'_

_'For the knight... For the knight, she also healed his heart, although his hadn't been shattered as the prince's had.'_

_'After all the healing she had done, the girl had been turned back into a duck and the prince had chosen another for his princess.'_

_'Yet, even at the end, when the girl knew her fate, she still helped the prince,'_

_'She danced with such hope, even as a duck, that they changed the ending of the story, made it better.'_

_'Now, now everything was good and happy.'_

_'Now, they were all living peacefully, all living out lives with no regrets.'_

_'Happy.'_

_'Content.'_

_'Alone.'_

_'The prince and princess were together, yes, but what of the knight-turned-writer?'_

_'What of the duck?'_

_'Why were their happily ever afters just ever afters?'_

_'So, it was with overflowing hope which the duck showed him that the writer had taken up his pen and wrote.'_

_'Wrote a story for her, and about her.'_

_'Yet, it had a piece for him as well, for their destinies were linked as a chain.'_

_'Binding and unbreakable.'_

_'It had taken him night after night to finish, adding and scratching out sentences.'_

_'Making it perfect for __her__.'_

_'Even after all his revisions, the beginning of the story worried him.'_

_'It was a few pages long, yet it was a possible ending as well.'_

_'There was a choice at the bottom of the last page.'_

_'A choice for her.'_

_'A choice for him'_

_'All the rest of the story depended on that choice, that chance.'_

_'The ex-knight added more, in hopes that she would choose the choice he wished for.'_

_'He knew it didn't work that way, but he added more just in case she did.'_

_'When the writer was finished, he set down his pen.'_

_'Shoulders heavy with doubt, he left his house.'_

_'He went to the pond, the pond were she lived when she wasn't there with him.'_

_'Holding in a sigh, he went to meet his destiny.'_

"Is this love-love, zura? Does Fakir love-love Ahiru-zura?" The questions wasn't expecting an answer, but spoken out of habit before the child turned to the next page, the next installment of the story.

--

Ahiru-the-duck was floating in her pond, watching the sun rise over the treetops and buildings as she thought of everything that had happened last year and how much had happened since then (which was to say, not much). It was then that she realized something:

She missed it; she missed the dancing that she was no good at, the friends that always misunderstood everything, seeing people's dreams be found and come true, she even missed Neko-sensei's ridiculous threats of marriage...

Yet, most of all, she missed Fakir.

Fakir's brash, blunt and unbending attitude that held everything in a truthful, straightforward way. His small, sincere smiles that happened only rarely, yet were a treasure for their rareness. The way his eyes seemed to pull her in until she felt like she was lost in a forest and that only he could find her, how warm and alive she had felt when she held him, safe from the elm tree, and, most of all, how it had felt to dance the pas de deux with him. How strong he had made her feel, just as a girl.

**Aren't I suppose to be in love with Mytho? **Ahiru's small duck shoulders slumped in doubt and disappointment, **But he chose Rue, does that mean I can love another?**

As soon as that enlightening, happy thought floated to the surface, than a darker, more depressing thought pushed down to the bottom of her heart again.

**What if I can't confess my love without disappearing again? What if Fakir thinks I'm still in love with Mytho and I can't tell him that I'm not? What if-**

Ahiru's next thought was cut off by the sound of running feet that made the other ducks in the pond fly away in a panic, but only made her heart beat faster, made her breath come quicker. Could it be...?

The form coming toward her wasn't Fakir's lean, muscled form, but rather a petite, female with ebony hair that reminded Ahiru of Rue, but this girl wasn't as thin as Rue was and her skin was ever so slightly darker than Rue's.

"Is this the place you were talking about?" The girl's voice was a light alto, whispering into the mist and it made Ahiru nostalgic for the times when she could speak, for she wanted to ask what the girl was talking about.

"Yes, Kietsu, this is it." A deep baritone answered, making Ahiru almost quack in fright before she covered her mouth and watched as a tall, dark-skinned male appeared beside the girl and put a hand on her shoulder. "What do you think?"

"It's perfect, Ryu." Kietsu exclaimed, twirling in place happily and making Ahiru long once more for her human days, "It's the perfect place to practice! Are you ready?"

The boy nodded and clasped one of her hands, making Ahiru think they were going to start a dance and dance they did, a beautiful pas de deux that tugged at Ahiru's ducky heart.

They danced en point in a grace that Ahiru could only accomplish when she was Princess Tutu; yet, instead of feeling envious, she felt overjoyed that they were able to show their love in that beautiful way. If only she could do the same...

Ahiru could feel tears streaming from her eyes as the couple finished their dance in a loving embrace. It was almost as if they had come to this place, danced that dance, just for her on this day. It gave her hope that someday, someday, she would be able to dance like them again.

Wiping her tears away, Ahiru became aware of a form standing beside her, which made her immediately stiffen, before she remembered that she was just a duck and that there was no more ravens after her anymore.

"Why did you choose to dance out here, Kietsu?" Ryu was asking as he stretched slowly and glanced at Kietsu out of the corner of his eye. "Why didn't you want to practice in the practice room?"

"I don't know," Kietsu replied, shrugging her shoulders and spinning to face him, smiling softly. "I just felt that it needed to be danced here, something told me that it needed to be told to someone... someone _here_!"

"The only things here are ducks and weeds," Ryu snorted, sweeping his arm in arc to indicate the entire pond. "Don't think stupid things, stupid."

The girl let out an indignant huff and immediately began pointing out a few things that were stupid about the boy as well, which he simply brushed off and began to walk off, her berating voice following him the entire way.

"They remind me of us."

The sudden utterance made Ahiru quack in surprise, before splashing around to find that Fakir was the one who had popped up beside her and he was looking at her with a soft, wistful expression that made her blush for some strange reason.

"Or, at least, the way we were before," Fakir conceded, dropping down beside the pond and smiling at the expression the little yellow duck was giving him as she swam up to him. "Our petty, little squabbles over stupid things... I never thought I'd miss _fighting_ with someone!"

The comment caused Ahiru's blush to deepen as she let out a quack of confusion. Why was Fakir-chan bringing this up? Why did his eyes have such a look of sadness in them? They were almost as bad as Mytho's were when his heart was broken...

"I missed a lot of things in this past year, Ahiru." His eyes had deepened into further dismay that tugged at her heart and long for words of comfort. "Walking to school and seeing you with your friends as you whisper and giggle, watching you try to sneak your way into class without Neko-sensei seeing you... not that it ever worked."

If Ahiru thought that her face was red before, it was nothing compared to how it felt now; she would've swore it glowed like the rear end of a firefly! When had Fakir-chan payed such close attention to the things she did?

"I never realized how you had interrupted my life until you weren't there to interrupt it anymore," Fakir's bitter smile told her that the comment wasn't meant to be taken as an insult, and it also told Ahiru that she wasn't the only one that had been feeling lonely lately. "So, I wrote us a story."

Ahiru's ducky eyes would've popped out of her head if they got any bigger. Fakir had written a story for her? Would he make her a girl again? Had an enemy shown up and he needed Princess Tutu again? Her heart fighting conflicting emotions, Ahiru almost missed that Fakir had started talking again.

"It's not that great of a story," Fakir whispered, not meeting her eyes and staring off into the distance as he continued, "but I think it's okay. You don't get Mytho as your prince, but you do have someone who loves you..."

The heat that had fled Ahiru's face a few minutes ago rushed back as soon as Fakir finished his sentence. Did that mean-? It was then that the rest of his softly spoken sentence registered and Ahiru face drained of all color, leaving her a pale yellow.

_**You won't get Mytho as your prince...**_

__**Oh, Fakir! **Ahiru's eyes filled with tears, of regret that she couldn't speak as well as disappointment, Fakir still not meeting her glance, not looking her way at all. **You can't believe I still love Mytho, can you? Especially not after everything we did and said!**

After a few quacks of protest that Fakir also chose to ignore, Ahiru could do nothing but float beside Fakir in silence, wondering if she could tell him how she felt if his story allowed her to become human again, or if she was doomed to be forever silent if she didn't want to disappear.

Listening to the water as she gently swam in her little pond, Ahiru became lost in her thoughts before she became aware of Fakir making ready to leave. Paddling quickly, she just made to the shore as he made it to his feet and began to dust himself off.

Smiling down at her, Fakir was aware that tears were once more flowing down his cheeks. He had an entire speech ready to give to make Ahiru understand why he did what he did, but as soon as he mentioned Mytho's name, his entire cool had fallen apart.

His greatest fear-damn that feeling!-was that after all of this, all the trouble he went through to write her story, she would still love Mytho. As her role in the story had dictated, she was the princess that would love the prince forever and never tell of that love. He wasn't sure if the feeling still lingered after Drosselmeyer-san was gone and the story was over.

Bending down, he scooped her up and embraced her, praying that this wouldn't be the last time he did so and hoping that the next time he did so, she would be human and returning the feelings he had such a damn hard time conveying.

Swallowing hard as Ahiru quacked in surprise before snuggling against him, Fakir really tried to think of something to say, some way to show Ahiru that she was still missed, cherished, wanted.

_Needed_.

"Ahiru, I know you need a piece of a heart to be human and I have given you one. Yet, you remain a duck. I hope it is because you didn't know this, not because you wanted to stay this way. The reason is this: I have given you a part, a very large part, of my heart, Ahiru..."

Squeezing his eyes tighter and making his grip on Ahiru firmer, Fakir whispered the last part of his confession in her ear.

"I love you."

All he heard was a flabbergasted quack before a sudden blood-red glow flashed in front of his closed eyes that almost burned them and a sudden stabbing pain hit his chest that almost made him drop Ahiru.

--

"Fakir does love-love Ahiru-zura!" The child-like doll exclaimed, pushing the manuscript off her small lap and onto the chair she had been sitting on before darting to the door. "I want to see-zura!"

When she made it to the door, she came across a problem: she couldn't reach the handle! By standing on her drum, she came across the unhappy realization that it had been locked from the other side.

"Oh, no-zura!" Uzura cried, jumping on her drum to make a deeper_ toum-toum-touming_ sound in time with her frustration, "I wanted to see what love-love was-zura!"

--

Deep in a secluded mansion, in a darken chamber in a normally bright Wing, a man watching a mirror with no reflection laughed in a way that could only be described as maniacal before he made his way to his desk.

"Good work, boy, very good work!"

Sitting in his sun-drenched desk, yet strangely, able to keep his face in shadow, the man laughed again as a maid attempted to see what was making her master laugh so loudly. Her exit was as abrupt as her entrance and it caused the man to laugh all the harder.

"It's almost as good as **his** stories! You have a way to go, but don't worry, you have a perfect incentive!"

It was the last thing he said before calling for a relative that had gained a new part in this story; a boy who had been both helpful and an annoyance to the characters of the old story, much to the man's unwavering delight.

A boy with sphere glasses and narrow eyes.

--

_**So our story ends for today. What awaits us tomorrow? A happy ending? A sad ending? Or maybe...?**_

--

_A/N: Man, oh, man! I really need to stay up late more often! I was having such a hard time trying to figure out what the twist in this story was going to be, then I booted up my computer at one in the morning and just started to write and couldn't stop! I think I was channeling Fakir for a while there!!_

_As always, review and tell me if it was good or bad, cause I really, __**really**__ want this to be good!! Don't worry, Kietsu and Ryu will be explained, they're not one of those characters that pop up, then disappear!_


	3. Human Again

**Chapter Two: Human Again**

Ahiru blinked, dazzled by the light that was burning her eyes and the sharp burning crawling all over her skin as if she had been stung by a thousand bees. Waiting a few moments for the slightly painful feeling to subside, Ahiru reached up to rub at her eyes when she realized something and froze.

She was a girl again, a human girl.

Leaping up in excitement-and dropping back down again-Ahiru let out a cry of pure joy as she bended arms, legs, fingers and toes in a happy, childlike rediscovery of her body, slightly surprised that she had grown in the last year... She might be as tall as Fakir now! It was when her braid brushed against her bare back that she finally realized something else, something much more pressing.

She was completely and utterly nude. No clothes, no nothing.

Feeling her face heat up, Ahiru made to cover herself before almost quaking in surprise as a bright, pink glow enfolded her entire body and then faded, leaving a light blue dress that she had seen only in her dreams covering her. Reaching down, Ahiru ran a hand across the dress and felt that it was of a soft, silky material.

**W-what? How did this...? **She had been swimming in her pond, reminiscing about the days that she had been human, the days that seemed the happiest in her life, when a couple had shown up and practiced a dance together, a dance that seemed made just for her. Fakir had shown up as they left, also remembering the days when Ahiru had been human and finally, _finally_, Fakir had admitted his love and embraced her.

Ahiru's face turned ten times the degree redder as she remembered the last few minutes of her life before she was enfolded by that red light and came to find herself in a completely white room, human once more. Pinching herself, Ahiru concluded that this was not a dream, and that all this was very real.

**Fakir-chan said that he loved me, but was still worried that I might still love Mytho-senpai. **Ahiru's eyes began to water as she remembered the look on Fakir's face, as well as the tears, when he had admitted to that. **Fakir, you baka! How could you still think that I still-?**

"He's afraid of losing you." A deep voice resonated, making Ahiru jump to her feet and squawk in surprise. She spun around to see who had spoken in the 'supposedly' empty room; but, Ahiru being Ahiru, tripped in the middle of the spin and fell flat on her face.

**Ou-u-ch... That hurt... a lot!** Ahiru slowly picked herself off of the floor, rubbing her knees where she fell, before looking up to see who had spoken... and her jaw dropped open in shock.

"Fakir... chan?"

He smiled, and made his way toward her, giving her time to truly examine the boy.

It certainly _looked_ like Fakir-chan; sword, cloak, dark leotard-like pants with a white ruffled shirt and all the things that told Ahiru that her eyes weren't playing tricks on her and that really was her friend standing in front of her; yet, something wasn't right: How had he shown up in a room that was previously empty and when did he ever glow red? The only things that glowed like that were-

Ahiru's hands flew up to cover her mouth as a gasp found it's way out; she was talking to a piece of Fakir's heart! No, there was no way that could've happened! When had Fakir's heart shattered? _How_ had that happened? And... where were they? Why was a piece of Fakir's heart _here_? Which piece was it...?

"We are in an alternate reality, Ahiru, parallel to our own." The Fakir-emotion stated, answering one of her unasked questions with a bitter smile that made Ahiru shift uncomfortably for a few minutes. "Much like when Drosselmeyer-san showed you the Lake of Despair."

Ahiru swallowed, trying to figure out how Fakir's heart could have gotten shattered, and how to help him put it back together. Thinking of Fakir ending up like Mytho-senpai before his heart was restored made Ahiru shiver in fright and her heart constrict so harshly she instinctively put a hand to her chest in an attempt to stop the pain.

In an instant, the Fakir-emotion was right beside her, wrapping both his cloak and arm around her, pulling her close to his chest and making Ahiru's blush, which had finally died down, spring right back up again. It was for a _different_ reason this time, though...

"It's alright, Ahiru," The emotion seemed distressed that she was still shivering-which made Ahiru cross off a few emotions in her mental checklist-and began to rub her arms with it's lightly calloused ones, which would have made Ahiru moan in delight if she wasn't so worried and confused. "Fakir isn't going to end up like Prince Mytho. His heart is still in one piece."

"Then h-how...?" Ahiru was confused; was this all a dream? Why was she dreaming about a piece of Fakir-chan instead of the real thing? Why was all of this happening? Pulling away from the emotion that was causing her headache, and heartache, Ahiru put both her hands on either side of her head and squeezed.

Still, nothing made sense and her head only hurt worse. Yes, that was the reason her eyes filled with tears and her breath hitched in her throat, making her unable to meet the Fakir-emotion's eyes, that and nothing else. Nothing at all...

--

He made his way to the little pond in the midst of the woods, pushing past crowds of ogling fan girls and ill attempting confessors of love. He had no need for any of them, did not need nor want their attention; he was on a mission from his Master and had no time for frivolities or games. Besides, there was only one woman he loved and that was the whole reason he was going through all of this, all this trouble.

For he had only one goal in mind, only one purpose: To complete his mission and be granted his heart's desire. It was the only thing that had been denied him, the only thing ever truly wanted, but could not have. His master had promised this if his mission was a success and he was damned and determined that this was to be a successful mission.

This was the only thing that made him agree to this questionable request, for he was not a vicious person by nature. Yes, he was hard-handed and sometimes hard to get along with, but there was no hatred in his heart until She had been taken away from him, until He had taken Her away. Now there was little, nay, nothing he would not do.

All for the sake of getting Her back, of seeing Her again and finally being able to say those words that had he had been unable to say before She left, cowardliness and being too late causing the words to be unspoken.

Standing on the edge of the woods, he took a deep breath and remember how she looked when She danced; a vision of art, flowing and beautiful, an untouchable goddess, capable of capturing any and all man's hearts. He did not blame Her for this fact, only the one that had been blinded by said beauty and had stolen her heart with false words and promises.

Growing angry, with both himself, for being unable to make her stay, and Him, for taking Her away, the boy made his way into the woods, sunlight glinting off his glasses. He should have been stronger, been able to make Her see that he was the one who truly loved her and not some false idolatry from a weak Prince.

Pushing aside some low-hanging branches with enough force to make them snap and almost slap him in the face, he forced himself to remember the day that She had been lost to him forever...

He had been protecting the Writer, that had been his first mistake, protect that fool of a boy instead of trying to find and protect Her. Yet, like many things in his 'old' life, he believed that the one that was writing the story was more important than the one that had claimed his heart. It wasn't until the town had become deathly quiet when only moments before it had been filled with hellish cawing that he had gone looking for Her.

And he had found her, looking like the Princess he knew she was, sitting in a carriage drawn by two swans. Racing to the roof of a nearby house, he had gone to call out her name when his voice got caught in his throat; for, sitting next to Her had been the one man he detested more than the ex-knight: the false Prince.

The words he had almost spoken remained lodged in throat as he watched Her say goodbye to the Writer and Duck, tears of happiness glistening in her eyes as He sat next to her and clasped one of Her hands in his own, which caused the smile to grow. All of his planned confessions and words of love fought to the top of his throat as She told them She was leaving with the false Prince and the only word that made it out as they flew away was a gasped, 'No!'

Swallowing down the bile that memory produced, Autor kicked a rock away with enough force to make animals scurry to their hiding places as he made his way to the lake and the end of all his misery... and the beginning of all his dreams.

--

Fakir-emotion stared at Ahiru and waited for her to say something , but she simply sat there, keeping her eyes on her feet and hiding whatever she thought of this whole thing from him. Sighing softly, he decided to continue with his explanation.

"We are here because Fakir, when writing his story for you, decided you needed a moment to collect yourself and understand what happened," The emotion informed her, waiting for a sign that she had heard him, before sighing and continuing on when all he got was a nod. "That is way this place, and I, am here. The way he put it was: '_I'll have to simplify things for the simpleton_.' or something like that."

"Sounds like Fakir-chan," Ahiru commented dryly, telling herself to give said male a bop on the head and not speak to him for a week when all this returned to normal... before she remembered that normal was her swimming in a pool as a duck, dreaming of when she was a human girl, and Fakir-chan living with Charon in the woods, only visiting her when it didn't interfere with his new life.

Ignoring the rush of sadness that thought brought her, as well as the hallow feeling in her chest, Ahiru looked up to the Fakir-emotion to demand the answers to the rest of her questions when he began to give them, no questions asked, a sad look dominating his own features as well. Almost as if he could read her thoughts...

"When two people fall in love they entrust the most important part of themselves to their other; their heart." Sitting in a chair that appeared just as suddenly as he did, the emotion motioned for Ahiru to do the same. Not even bothering to check if there was a chair behind her, Ahiru sat. "In your and my owner's case, this went even farther."

Ahiru sighed and leaned back in her chair, smiling her own bitter smile. When had anything in her life been simple or of the the norm? She was a _duck_, for Kami's sake and she had been turned into a girl not once, but _twice_, and had interfered with a whole _town's_ life and destiny. Falling in love with Fakir had been a surprise, a lovely surprise, but a surprise nonetheless, especially when the person she had fallen in love with had been of her own choosing and not originally planned out.

"As you no doubt know, you can only become a human if you are in possession of a heart piece," The emotion continued, his deep, sad voice dim in Ahiru's ears as she pulled herself back to the present. "Since Fakir has given you his whole heart, it was possible for you to become human once more. The problem was that, even though his heart was yours, and yours was happily his, there was no visible proof and you remained your aquatic self."

Ahiru was suddenly reminded of last few visits that Fakir-chan had given her before all of this had happened; he had been watching her constantly, almost as if he expected her to grow another head or something, and it unnerved her so much that she had quacked at him so angrily that he had left and not shown up until weeks later.

"In his act of confession, Fakir had writ that his heart was to be broken and a piece was to be given to you, unaware that the whole of it already belonged to you. Thankfully, this will not leave him in the same state that Prince Mytho was in when his heart was not his own." The Fakir-emotion continued, prompting Ahiru to finally speak out.

"Why? When Mytho-senpai's heart had been shattered, he had to have them retrieved before he could feel again," **And I had become Princess Tutu to make that happen. It was then that I met Fakir-chan...** Ahiru shook her head and concentrated on her next question. "Why couldn't Mytho-senpai remain the same if Fakir-chan can?"

"Because his heart didn't belong to anyone... and he inflicted the pain for selfish reasons," Fakir's emotion replied softly, as if protecting her from a hurtful blow or distressing news and making Ahiru wonder once more just which emotion this one was. "He needed someone to love him."

"Poor Mytho-senpai... He was all alone," Ahiru comment was also spoken softly as she remembered the boy that was not her love, but her friend, and tried to think of how she would feel in his place. Then she remembered the past year and decided that she probably would've pierced her heart herself if Fakir hadn't been there.

"Yes, loneliness is a powerful emotion. It makes us do acts that we originally thought were beyond our talents or too cruel to even think of in the first place." The emotion's eyes glazed over and took on a reminiscing glow, "It can also make us realize that there is no greater joy than the love and respect of another, no greater service than to live for another, and no greater gift... then the trust of another."

Ahiru could say nothing, she just stared as the emotion rose from his chair and made it's way over to were she was sitting. She observed the way his cloak flowed around his shoulders and the straight, knightly way he walked before he dropped to one knee in front of her, smiling that heart stopping smile that reminded her so vividly of the real Fakir that she felt like crying. Only could watch as he took one of her hands from her lap and laid a gentle, skin-tingling kiss on the back of it.

"I'm sorry it took so long for me to get Fakir to say those words to you, the words I knew you wanted to hear for such a long time," The emotion whispered, eyes downcast and voice low, "He wanted to say them for a while, but Fear and Worry had a stronger hold on him than I did and he kept quiet. It drove me mad, all the times he would be with you, ready to say something, when either Worry, Doubt, or Confusion would whisper in his ear and he'd just blush and lose all confidence..."

Ahiru was having a hard time breathing, all of this was making her heart, head and everything attached and between hurt. Her voice caught in her throat as she asked, "Just who-_what_-are you? You are different from any other emotion that I've come across... Just what are you?"

He raised his eyes, glazed over with an emotion that Ahiru had never seen on Fakir and it made her heart race, palms sweat and breath tighten even more in her chest as he softly whispered, "Do you really not know?"

A shout of surprise echoed through the hallow room as Ahiru leapt to her feet, stumbling as she knocked the chair over and pulled her hand from Fakir-emotion's grip. Unable to speak, she took a few steps back, knocking her heels against the legs of the upturned chair and digging said legs into the back of her knees.

"I see that you do," The emotion slowly rose, the unknown look gone from his eyes and sadness once more dominating them. Ahiru usually would've asked how she could've helped or said something to make him feel better, but nothing would come now that she finally realized what this emotion was.

"It's time for you to go back now," Fakir-emotion stated, raising his hand in farewell and began disappearing into the cascade of red droplets that usually formed a heart piece. "Tell Fakir he should listen to me more and Worry less. Goodbye, Ahiru. I _will _see you again."

With those final words, it disappeared fully, not even leaving a heart piece for Ahiru to return to Fakir. Leaving her so suddenly left Ahiru to stand in shock only for a mere moment before she was engulfed in the blinding white light once more.

--

_**So our story ends for today. What awaits us tomorrow? A happy ending? A sad ending? Or maybe...?**_

--

_A/N: Real life can really bite sometimes. I'd really appreciated if you review and tell me what you think of my story, weather good or bad. Tells me what to fix and what to keep._

_Thank you for reading!_


	4. Puzzle Pieces

**Chapter Three: Puzzle Pieces**

Where was he?

_Lake._

He had gone there to talk to someone, but who?

_Ahiru._

That was right, he had decided to do something, something he had been planning and trying to do for a year.

_Confessed feelings_.

He hadn't expected what came next, it was a surprise to both of them, for he had heard Ahiru's cry of shock echoing his own.

_Red light_.

There was no way to tell where it came from, no way to tell whether it was for good or ill, all he knew was what had followed after.

_Pain_.

Moving an arm, his body reasserted that thought.

_**Lots**__ of pain..._

Fakir slowly became aware that he was lying on the ground, a dull buzzing in the base of his skull, and an odd throbbing sensation pounding in the midst of his chest. As more life flowed into his numbed limbs, Fakir became aware that the throbbing was his heartbeat.

Slowly rising into a sitting position, Fakir was suddenly aware that he wasn't the only one in this clearing, and that thought wasn't as comforting as one would originally assume; considering the fact that the other person had a sword to his throat.

"Hello, Fakir. It's been a while, hasn't it?" The voice that spoke was low, yet the hate carried in those words gave it a steely edge that hit his ears as hard as if the person had shouted.

Barely trying to swallow, Fakir lifted his eyes past the hand that held the sword to the face above it. "I believe I can honestly say you're not happy to see me."

Autor's eyes narrowed as the sword point dug deeper into Fakir's neck, causing a small drop of blood to gather on the tip, and also causing Fakir to seriously consider not breathing as well. Staring into Autor's cold and empty eyes, he knew he would have no problem with that regard.

"Where is she?" Autor's grip tightened on the sword, probably to keep from flinching and leaving Fakir with half a throat, to which he was grateful for.

Although he would've preferred to _not _have a blade pressed against his neck so much it was starting to itch, Fakir knew he wasn't in a position to start making demands. "Where is who?"

"The duck-girl. You call her Ahiru."

Fakir immediately tensed, then wished he hadn't at the fresh prick of pain. Why did Autor want Ahiru, what had she done? Originally, Fakir would've asked why or simply take Autor to Ahiru and let her deal with him, people always responded better to her away... Only one thing was stopping that course of action and it was pinching his neck.

"I don't know where she is," Fakir responded at last; a quick glance around the clearing had shown him that the statement was true, even though he had enough reason not to lie.

Autor's eyes narrowed and he moved his blade and grabbed Fakir by the arm, surprising the older boy at the power in his slight frame, "Well, then we need to go find her, don't we?"

Fakir allowed himself to be pulled along, fighting down a rising sense of panic as he thought of what might've happened to Ahiru since he had been unconscious. Had she wandered off and gotten lost? Hurt? _Eaten_?

More to distract himself from the thoughts jumping through his brain than any real desire to know, Fakir asked Autor, "What do you want with Ahiru? She's just a duck." **Or was the last time I checked...**

Autor barely spared Fakir a glance as his lips curled into a cold sneer, "Not anymore, she's not."

--

Blinking slowly as she awoke, Ahiru saw that she was once more by a body of water. Sighing sadly and brushing the whole thing off as a wistful dream, Ahiru sat up and was suddenly aware of a sharp pain in her left shoulder.

Her left _shoulder_, not _wing_...

Leaping up with a happy cry, and stumbling slightly, Ahiru spun and spun and spun some more; until she was dizzy and slightly sick, falling in a painful heap on the pile of rocks she had been laying on.

Looking down, Ahiru was pleased to see that she was clothed this time, clad in the dress of her 'dream', instead of being completely nude. The only reason the rocks under her bum and the one that had stabbed her shoulder had hurt so much was because of the thinness of the material.

Ahiru knew that you don't feel pain in dreams and that her shoulder had been hurting a few minutes ago; but, just to be on the safe side, she spent the next few minutes pinching herself to be sure of her transformation.

**It was real, it was all real, every single moment of it! **Ahiru thought happily, red marks up and down both arms. **I'm really and truly a human girl again, this time possibly forever! Won't Fakir-chan be surprised to see- That's right! I have to see Fakir-chan!**

Scrabbling on the rocks underneath her until she made it to her feet, Ahiru darted past the trees that separated her from where Fakir had finally confessed his feelings to her and where all her wishes came true.

"Fakir-chan? Fakir-chan!" Ahiru called, growing uneasy at the silence that greeted her calls. Why wasn't he coming? Did he get hurt? Or worse, did he change his mind and go home...?

"Ahiru!" Fakir-chan's voice finally answered her, but it was not the the happy shout she had imagined, but rather a panicked cry that sent Ahiru's feet into super-speed as she bolted around a tangle of trees that blocked her from her beloved.

"Fakir-chan! Fa-" Ahiru voice was cut off at the horrific scene in front of her, not willing to believe her eyes. It was enough to make her momentarily stop breathing as well, a tightening in her chest as she tried to comprehend what she was seeing.

Fakir-chan was lying on the ground, a dark, ruby-red liquid staining the side of his shirt and running down his leg. Standing above him was Autor, the blade in his hand drenched in the same garnet liquid as he smiled at her, glasses glinting in the fading sunlight.

Ahiru dropped to her knees, numbness spreading throughout her entire body, only one thought running through her mind. **This can't be happening! This **_**can't**_** be happening!! It just**_** can't**_**!!**

"Hello, Ahiru," Autor's voice was completely calm, it was as if they had met at the school and he had commented on the weather, not holding a sword bathed in Fakir-chan's blood and pointing it in her direction. "We have much to discuss."

--

Fakir was having a very hard time holding still, as he listened to the flow of tears he wasn't even sure Ahiru was aware of. He longed to get up, show her he was alright and tease away her fear; but, as he had no idea what Autor wanted; he lay still as he could, hoping he''d get a chance to get Ahiru away before Autor did something he'd regret.

_**Hiretsukan**_** was lucky I was distracted enough for him to get a hit in. **Fakir thought angrily as he listened to Ahiru demand to know why Autor had hurt him so badly. **Hearing Ahiru call out made me so shocked that I didn't see the **_**itachi**_** move until it was almost too late...**

There were almost to the lake-apparently Fakir had been thrown when the red light had shown up-when Fakir had first heard Ahiru call out to him. Seized by a sudden surge of joy and shock, he had forgotten that he was in someone's custody and had called back, turning as he did so. It was only his many years of training that saved him from the blade aiming for his chest, turning it into a glancing blow instead.

"He was in my way," came Autor's heartless reply, as Fakir lay and listened to Ahiru's rattled breathing, "Don't worry, duck-girl, he isn't dead; he's simply wounded, which is more than I can say for you at the moment. You are not going to be as lucky..."

Behind him, Fakir slowly rose to his feet, wincing slightly but staying unnoticed by Autor as he continued his angry rant. Fakir finally knew what Autor was going to do; he had heard that tone before; it had come out of his own mouth when he had been young, had lost something very precious to him...

"You, the duck-girl-turned-princess that was just so _helpful_, you made everything _better_. How many people have swallowed that lie? You just made it all _worse_, everything went to hell and He took Her away!" Autor's voice raised with every word, turning his face a deep violet as the grip he had on the sword tightened, yet Ahiru said nothing as he continued to spit in her face. "All because of you and your damn story! Was it worth it, duck-girl? Are you happy now?!"

Fakir was swaying slightly as he finally managed to make the forest stop spinning and concentrate on the maddened boy in front of him. He needed to wait until the right moment to attack, weakened as he was. Luckily, Ahiru was still silently staring at her knees and Autor was a little preoccupied to notice him.

"Did you ever consider what would happen after all of this played out? I helped you make all of this happen! Did you ever ask how _I'd_ have felt if She left? No! I loved Her more than anything and you let someone _else_ claim Her! _Now you're going to pay for taking my happy ending away from me!"_

Just as Autor rose the sword to deliver the finishing blow and Fakir had leapt forward to stop him did Ahiru decide to speak; it was barely above a whisper, yet it carried from her kneeling position to both boys and halted both in their actions.

--

"I'm so sorry, Autor," Ahiru could barely speak around the lump in her throat. She couldn't blame him for his actions, nor his words; for Autor, in his anger and hurt, had spoken what Ahiru surely would have if Fakir ever was taken from her. "If I had known you felt this way, I never-"

"It wouldn't have mattered anyway," Ahiru jumped at the sound of Fakir-chan's voice, as well as the fact that he was standing right behind Autor. "We all know how Rue felt about Mytho, given all the things she did to make sure he stayed with her and near her all the time."

As Autor swung his sword between the two, probably trying to figure out who to attack first, Ahiru was struck by a sudden thought. "Have you ever _told_ Rue how you felt, Autor?"

Despite the fact that he was threatening both their lives, Ahiru felt something stir in her chest as Autor's head fell forward, hair covering his eyes, and he responded shakily, "I-I did, once. She thought it was a joke, that I wasn't serious. It made me sick; what kind of family did She live with to not believe that I could love Her?"

Swallowing hard, Ahiru knew that Autor was familiar with the story 'The Prince and The Crow', for he had been helping Fakir-chan with his writing skills so the story could be finished, what she wasn't sure of was how he would respond to the fact that Rue had been taken as The Crow's daughter and looking at Fakir-chan told her he had no idea as well.

Realizing that Autor's shoulders were shaking, Ahiru slowly got to her feet. She also knew what needed to be done, her only fear was that she might make a mistake and lose something very precious, yet Autor had already lost something due to her-unknowingly, but still because of her-and Ahiru felt that this was the only way to make things right.

"Autor-chan," Ahiru called, making his head snap in her direction, a startled look on his face. Whether because of the fact that she used the friendly term of his name or because she drew his attention back to herself, Ahiru wasn't sure, but she didn't pause in her decision. "I'm sorry I didn't think of you, I should have, especially since you worked so hard to help Fakir-chan..."

Said male was shaken out of his own stupor to snort at said comment. Ahiru ignored him.

"I can't possibly know how you are feeling, I only know how it would feel if I had lost someone I loved, and it hurts," Ahiru brought her hand up and placed it on her chest, over her heart, "right here. There is only one thing I know that could help, and I hope you'll accept it."

Bringing her hands up into a motion she had done a dozen times, but never as plain, ordinary Ahiru, she prayed she wouldn't stumble, trip, or otherwise make a fool of herself as she brought a hand down and out for Autor to either accept or reject.

"Autor-chan, will you dance with me?"

--

Back in Kankin Town, in a mansion on the edge of the woods, in a darken corner lit only by a single ray of light, a man was leaning close to a mirror clad in a metallic gold frame.

For this was no ordinary mirror, for it showed not a person's image, but a scene of their choosing. It's owner leaned forward, breath fogging the glass and hands caressing the mirror's jewel encrusted frame, reflecting the ray of light into a kaleidoscope of colors.

The man leaned forward even more, lips almost kissing the glass, and chortled at the scene being played out in front of him, the scene he had set into motion with an almost insane joy.

"Do you believe that will heal him, silly girl?" He asked, his caressing as soft and caring as if the mirror were his lover, "It won't be that simple, for you're missing a vital part of the puzzle."

Tearing his face away from whatever it was reflected in the glass, the man let his gaze drift past the many ornaments decorating his room to a shrine taking up the middle of the room, a muted red glow casting an ominous aura around it.

"A very important piece."

A shadow moved away from the rest and made it's way steadily down the hallway, finally finding out what kept the man locked in his room for hours on end and how to help the boy who's eyes had made it want to cry the first time it looked into them.

Silently going making it's way to the second floor, it past a ray of light, reveling it's form to be a female clad in a light blue leotard. A few minutes later, she was joined by another shadow, far broader than she was.

They waited until they were inside a spare room before the new shadow turned to the girl and finally spoke, worry pitching it's voice far lower than usual and making it impossible to any listening ears to identify the speaker or it's gender.

"Did you find out what we need?"

"Yes," The girl answered, her brows coming together as her voice dropped to a whisper, "We have a problem; he has added an accomplice to his schemes, but it is not his willing choice..."

As the girl outlined what she had seen and heard, the music coming from the lower floor increased in volume, overcome by maniacal laughter that caused even the two in the bedroom to shiver in fear.

"We must hurry, my friend," The first speaker's voice gained a note of fury as it's fists clenched, reveling a deep scar across the knuckles. "She must succeed, she deserves her happiness after everything she's gone through, after everything she's done..."

--

Back in Fakir's cabin, Charon had unlocked his door to find a little surprise waiting for him; the girl that he had carved out of the wood Fakir had brought home had dashed past him as soon as he opened the door, not even to bother with a greeting as she dashed to the woods.

"Hello to you too, little one," Charon laughed as he walked past them into his house and setting his coat down. "I wonder what has her so riled up..."

He trailed off as he saw the stack of papers on Fakir's table. **I knew he had been writing something, but I had never guessed it grew so big!** Charon also found himself wondering if he should read it or not.

On the one hand, he was not sure if Fakir would appreciate him reading the manuscript, even if he had left it out. On the other hand, Charon was extremely curious on what had caused his adopted son to write with such fever...

Charon's avid curiosity won over his long lived caution and he picked up the top page of the story, frowning when he saw the top page. Picking up a few more, his frown grew, as well as concern for the boy who had spent such time on this. "This isn't Fakir's handwriting..."

_So she offered a dance, a dance of healing..._

_Hoping to heal the hurt in his heart..._

_Hoping to stop his malicious actions..._

_Unknowing of the force planning to make sure she failed..._

--

_**And so our story ends for today. What awaits us tomorrow? A happy ending? A sad ending? Or maybe...?**_

**A/N: I am so sorry for taking so long!! I had the mother of all writer's block and a really bad cold to top it off with, but now I'm back and my Muse is singing once more! The next few updates should be coming out faster than this one did, so don't give up on me just yet!**

**As always, please read and review!**

_**Hiretsukan**_** is "mean bastard".**

_**Itachi**_** is "weasel".**


	5. Coming Together

**Chapter Four: Coming Together**

_Unknowing of the force determined to see her fail..._

_The force that was behind the almost insane drive to hurt that claimed her friend..._

_That made him almost mad with pain and rage..._

_Almost blind to what she was doing...._

_What she was offering..._

Stopping, Charon was suddenly reminded of the boy that had asked for directions a few minutes ago, causing him to come home a little later than usual; he had the look of someone teetering on the edge of despair, but he shook off all attempts to talk and just stubbornly asked for the 'way to the lake in the woods'. Was he this 'friend'?

Charon was immediately filled with dread over his young charge and the brave, yet unknown, girl that the story named as he read through the next few pages of the manuscript that was taking a hold on him.

_Holding out her hand so, she was offering a choice..._

_A choice of healing..._

_A choice of friendship..._

_A choice to ease his pain..._

_A choice he had almost no chance of accepting..._

**Why is this is in different handwriting? **Charon wondered, only half aware that he was turning the pages and continuing with the story, only half aware that his earlier caution was gone. **Fakir has barely let this out of his sight for two days... How did someone add to it?**

Intrigued and confused in equal measures, not mention worried as well, Charon continued to read; drawn into the tale that had taken up so much of Fakir's time and now, somehow, seemed to be altered. He hoped to find some way to fix it... and find out what was going on before anything happened to the boy he had come to love like a son.

_In another part of the woods, another girl walked..._

_She was looking for an answer..._

_An answer to a question that was always on her mind..._

_Yet what she stumbled on was more compelling...._

_What she stumbled on was a new question..._

--------------------

Uzura was running through the forest, beating her drum happily in time with her steps, when she came upon something that wasn't there the last time she had visited Kankin Town.

What had caught her eye was a massive mansion made of ebony colored stone at least as big as the academy that Fakir, Mytho, Rue, and Ahiru had all lived in and studied at. There was heavy, burgundy drapes covering each window, rare as it was to find one, so there was no way to see if anyone lived there; for, as roomy as the mini-castle appeared to be, there was no sign of life nor light that Uzura could see.

"I wonder who lives here-zura?" Uzura pondered aloud, deterring from her original course to make a side trip to the large, dark mansion that seemed to have sprouted overnight.

After only taking two steps, Uzura was suddenly barreled over by a pair of teenagers running in the opposite direction as if they had the hounds of hell after them. In fact, they were so distracted, it took them a full minute to realize that they had even hit someone.

"Oh, no! I'm so sorry!" One of them cried, picking up Uzura from where she fell and dusting her off distractedly. She was a tall, willowy girl with bright crimson hair and a set of the strangest scars across her knuckles that Uzura had ever seen. Before she could open her mouth to ask about them, a look of complete bewilderment covered the girl's face as she exclaimed, "You're a puppet!"

"And you're a girl-zura," Uzura stated, drumming a slow beat as she studied her new companions. They were a girl and a boy, redheaded and ebony, respectively, and while the girl was heavily scarred, the boy had none whatsoever. He also kept looking around as the two girls continued to talk.

"Yes, I suppose I am," the girl shook her head quickly, dispelling any lingering thoughts and turned back the way they had been going before their collision, "I'm sorry, but we really need to be going..."

"What are you running from-zura?" Uzura stopped her drumming for a moment to brush off the bits of dirt the girl missed in her absentminded attempt to clean the puppet-girl off. "Are you in trouble-zura?"

The couple looked at each other with a glance that Uzura was quite familiar with: they were wondering how much exactly to tell her; yet, before they could decide, an ear-splitting shriek caused them to scoop Uzura up and make for the woods, her drumming the entire way.

_The characters were coming together..._

_As fast as they possibly could..._

_But would they come together in time...?_

_Could death be averted...?_

_For not one life on the line..._

_But two..._

--------------------

"Autor-chan, will you dance with me?"

The moment he heard those words, that all too familiar sentence, a new wave of resentment flowed over him and Autor was about to spit back that he didn't want, nor _need_, to dance with her... and then he caught sight of Ahiru's face.

She looked hopeful, yet half scared that he would disagree, that he would refuse her offer. It was that bit of uncertainty, that bit that showed him she was asking as plain Ahiru, not as Princess Tutu, that made him swallow his original rebuttal and place his hand in her own.

Her smile was tentative, almost as if the mere presence of it would bring about his earlier attitude and Autor felt a moment's guilt for that before he shook it away as she moved closer. Laying a hand gently on his shoulder, she waited for him to start the dance, to set the steps and show her where his pain was deepest...

It was here that Autor stalled, for he never had much practice dancing, having been a rather studious person instead. He _had_ learned a bit, as had nearly everyone in the village with it being part of a broken story, but it was only the basics and he was naturally a bit unsure of his skills...

Looking uncertainly at Ahiru for guidance, for even though she was clumsy she had attended a ballet academy and her meager skills still surpassed his own, he saw neither the scorn nor the disdain he had come to expect when asking for help. Whether it was because she was afraid of angering him or whether she really didn't feel that way, he didn't really know and was grateful of in any case.

Once more smiling slightly, Ahiru whispered softly, "Just do what feels natural." before twirling outward once and coming back to rest her hand once more on Autor's shoulder, all while under Fakir's hawk-like gaze.

Slowly turning Ahiru as they began their pas de deux, Autor watched as Fakir watched them, all at once recognizing the look on his face: Fakir was in love with Ahiru. Whether he knew it himself or not, Autor felt a sudden kinship with Fakir that made him falter in his steps.

Confused, Ahiru also stopped, hands above her head and leg bent as Autor's hands, holding her about the waist, began to suddenly shake and his expression suddenly turned into one of dread.

"Autor-chan, what's wrong?" Ahiru asked, turning to face him as his hands dropped to his sides. "Did I do something wrong?"

Barely hearing the timid questions, Autor was filled with self-loathing at the thought that he was going to steal the one that Fakir loved, just as the one he loved had been stolen from him. Could he do that, could he be that cruel? Could he put Fakir through that kind of pain...?

As soon as the thought crossed Autor's mind, the unaccountable anger that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere all at once overcame him. Why shouldn't Fakir suffer as he had so painfully suffered? Why should he have what Autor was so selfishly denied?

With a growl of anger, Autor shoved Ahiru away from him, sending her tumbling into Fakir's arms. Shock was evident on both of their faces as he picked up the fallen sword and aimed it at Ahiru's heart.

"It's time for you to die, false princess." Ahiru intoned dully, lifting the sword high above his head and every emotion gone from his bespectacled, clouded eyes. "Good-bye..."

_Time was running out..._

_The girl was in danger..._

_The knight had been bested..._

_A miracle was needed and soon..._

--------------------

"Do you have to do that?" The boy asked, nodding irritably at Uzura's hands pounding away on her drum, yet able to keep his footing as they continued their run through the woods.

"Hush, Ryu, don't be so mean," the girl chided sharply, shifting Uzura in her arms so she could run easier and swifter, "It's probably her way of dealing with the situation we're currently stuck in; she doesn't even know who we are, where we are going or even what's going on, and puppet or no, she's still a child."

Ryu snorted, but nonetheless physically bit down on his next retort as Uzura's drumming picked up speed yo keep in time with their running and asked instead, "What were you doing so close to Karasu Manor, anyway? I thought no one knew of its existence..."

"I was looking for Fakir and Ahiru so I could see what love-love was-zura,"Uzura stated helpfully, hoping one of them might know where they were. Unfortunately, both teens just stopped suddenly in shock, the girl almost dropping Uzura in her confusion.

"You know Ahiru and Fakir? _The_ Ahiru and Fakir?" Ryu demanded sharply, recovering from his shock the quickest and immediately began interrogating the puppet-child for information. **He seems to be the speaker for both of them**, Uzura thought idly, watching interestedly as he came closer. **He talks like Fakir does. **"Why didn't you say so to begin with?!?"

"You didn't ask," Uzura stated calmly, despite the fact that Ryu was glaring at her angrily, crimson eyes flashing angrily. Uzura wasn't sure why they were so surprised at the fact that she knew Fakir and Ahiru. Were they new around here, just like the manor in the woods?

"Were are they? Tell us where they are!" Ryu demanded sharply, grabbing Uzura roughly by the shoulders and finally prompting the semi-comatose girl holding her into action.

"Stop it, Ryu!" She snapped, pulling Uzura out of Ryu's grasp, "You're going to hurt her and probably scare her so bad she won't say anything anyway. Let me talk to her."

"Tsuki-"

The girl, now identified as Tsuki, sent Ryu an ice cold stare worthy of Fakir that effectively shut him up before she turned back to Uzura with a tentative smile and warmth in her emerald eyes. "You don't happen to know where Fakir and Ahiru might be, do you?"

"Of course I do. This way," Uzura chirped, hopping down from her perch in Tsuki's arms before she could move and began to lead the way to a certain lake in the middle of the forest. Sharing a hopeful look, the pair followed at her heels.

_Confronters and champions..._

_Friends and foes..._

_Each had their own agenda..._

_Against or beside the knight and his charge..._

_They came for the fight..._

_And for the outcome..._

--------------------

Kneeling on the hard, unyielding ground, Ahiru's trembling form in his arms, Fakir found himself fervently wishing he knew how to pray.

It was a heart stopping shock and an unparalleled delight to see Ahiru answer his cry, a human girl once more and clad in a beautiful blue dress that showed off her recent growth, which had caused him to be momentarily speechless... and had also caused Autor get in his hit.

Laying on the ground and listening to Ahiru cry over his 'death' was one of the hardest and most painful things he ever had to do; it took everything in him not to get up right away. The only thing that made it all bearable was the look on her face when he had risen.

Then she asked Autor to dance with her and Fakir had nearly dropped to the ground again. Did she forget that she wasn't Princess Tutu anymore, that this was serious and she was just Ahiru? Why did she request that foolish dance? She would stumble, trip, or otherwise fall on her face and he, Fakir would have to watch as she was cut in twain...

Against all odds, and much to Fakir's relief, Ahiru had managed to stay on her feet and even managed to stay in step with Autor. He was just about to breathe easy, just beginning to relax a bit and believe that Ahiru could help Autor even as a girl, when the boy in question stopped dead and stared straight at him, an unreadable look crossing his features.

Fakir lost his momentary peace and immediately felt uneasy, darting a discreet glance at Ahiru, who was looking between both boys with a expression of utter confusion dominating her face. Fakir quickly tried to figure out what had caused Autor to go wooden, as well as if he was fast enough to snatch Ahiru from Autor's grasp without her getting hurt.

Still wondering what Autor's problem was _now_, Fakir was taken off-guard when Ahiru was suddenly thrust into his arms. It was only years of ballet balance training that kept him upright and it was only the current situation that kept him from hissing in pain from Ahiru tripping onto his wound.

All thought immediately left him as he saw Autor had the sword once more and was now raising above his head. Cursing mentally, Fakir berated himself for his foolish absentmindedness. Why hadn't he grabbed it when Ahiru had asked Autor to dance? After a moment, Fakir sullenly admitted to himself that he was more worried about Ahiru about than picking up a sword that, with his wound, he had no way of knowing if he could even hold it for long.

"It is time for you to die, false princess. Good-bye..."

Reacting instinctively, Fakir used the last of his strength and pulled Ahiru behind him, ignoring her cry of surprise mingled with sudden fear as she realized what he was doing. Throwing his arms wide, so that Ahiru was fully protected, Fakir raised his face to the incoming blade and closed his eyes to make one final plea to whoever might be listening.

**I pray I have the strength to protect Ahiru... and that my death satisfies Autor's need for revenge...**

Trying pitifully to ignore the way his heart suddenly constricted upon hearing Ahiru's plaintive cries to Autor for mercy, Fakir prepared himself to die for the girl he loved.

_In a far off place..._

_A special place..._

_In another time..._

_Another story..._

--------------------

"Really, my brother, is that the best you can do?"

Standing regally in his place of residence, a clock tower that showed the passing of every story he had ever wrote, Drosselmeyer was frowning at one of the many cogs twisting and turning in front of and around him; it showed a blackened room with enclosed curtains that allowed no light and completely obscured his view of the man he was trying to see.

"Always in darkness, my brother, forever in gloom. You believed that was our lot, 'writers of darkness belong in darkness', you said and refused to see any other life for yourself," Drosselmeyer snorted snobbishly, waving his hand and making the room fade away. "What nonsense!"

Still talking to a sibling that was not there, Drosselmeyer threw up his hands and cried ruthlessly, "I have lived in the light for years and I have been loved by it! I am a living-in a way-embodiment of an argument to your narrow-minded, foolish beliefs! Why must you be so stubborn, my simple, simple, brother?"

Spinning en point, Drosselmeyer turned his attention to a pair of three cogs spinning in rhythm. On the first trio was Fakir, eyes closed and face grimaced as he waited for the blow that was sure to come, Ahiru, tears streaming from her eyes and her mouth opened in a silent scream, and the one had Autor, sword above his head and no emotion in his hooded eyes.

"Although, my blood, and as I hate to admit it, you are about to cut off what might have been a very unusual, very interesting story..." There was another dissatisfied sniff, this one, however, was directed at Fakir's upturned face as Drosselmeyer muttered, "Stupid, self sacrificing-"

His irritated monotone of the ex-knight's many faults was suddenly cut off by fevered, muttered words that made him consider re-evaluating the person that spoke them.

_ I pray I have the strength to protect Ahiru... and that my death satisfies Autor's need for revenge..._

Eyebrows raised and the beginning of a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth, Drosselmeyer turned to the other cogs that were rotating, showing the faces of a child-puppet leading the way for a teenage girl with crimson locks and narrowed, emerald eyes; who was, in turn, being followed by a man-boy with midnight hair and blood-red eyes that gave the writer a chill of familiarity.

"I might be able to help with that, my foolish knight, since you asked so nicely." Drosselmeyer intoned, choosing to ignore the feeling for now as a gray, glowing light surrounded three of the cogs, causing them to wind faster than the others. "Yet, you will owe me later..."

Settling down to watch as the trio of cogs connected to each other with a sharp _click_, Drosselmeyer summoned a cup of tea just as they slowed and started turning in sync once more. Taking a sip, and allowing himself a small smile, he snapped his fingers to unfreeze the faces shown on them.

"Let the story continue!"

--------------------

_**And so our story ends for today. What awaits us tomorrow? Will there be a happy ending? A sad ending? Or maybe...?**_

_A/N: Alright, life seems to want to make me into a liar, considering it's been two months since I last posted and I promised not to take that long again. How to rectify this...? Ah, I got it!_

_Baring injury or extreme sickness, I will update at least once a month, or more if I am able. This fic has not been abandoned, I'm not one to start a story then stop it. So, neither has any of my other work._

_As always, reviews are appreciated, constructive criticisms will be taken into account, and flames will be ignored. Thank you!_


	6. Saving a Heart

**Chapter Five: Saving A Heart**

Running through the mass of trees, following a small girl who was pretty spry for a puppet, Ryu was suddenly overcome with the eerie feeling that they were traveling much faster than, not that they **should**, but that they **could**; the trees seemed to be flying past and his feet were barely grazing the ground, but he made no comment to Tsuki about it. As long as they made it to where they were headed in time, he couldn't care less if they **flew **there.

However, Tsuki was a smart girl, and she was just as observant as he was, more so about some things... She could see that their speed was out of sync with the pace they were setting; but, after a single glance at Ryu's face, she decided to question their sudden benefit later.

. The brother and sister ran as fast as they had been made to after the puppet-girl in front of them, following the steady sound of her drumming as she darted through the trees with an almost cat-like grace and they found themselves wondering if, had they no unaccountable speed and steady footing, they would be able to keep up with the fast paced child.

"Are you sure this is the right way?" Ryu shouted, one hand never leaving his pocket, even as he ran. They could not bear to lose the gem inside, for it was no ordinary stone. "Didn't you just say that you **didn't** know where they were? How are you sure we aren't running **away** from them?"

"Fakir always came here to talk to Ahiru-zura," The t_ap-tap-tap_ was starting up again, this time in synchronization with her speech, "If he's not at home then this is where he should be."

"How do you know he's not home?" Ryu asked, dodging a tree that decided to jump up in front of him and hearing Tsuki curse softly as she narrowly avoided getting hit by one as well.

_Tap-tat-tap_. Their was a definite note of smugness in Uzura's voice as she replied, "I just came from Fakir's home-zura."

Ryu nodded, ignoring the giggle to his right as he checked that the item was still safe in his trouser's pocket. Feeling the warmth and seeing the ruby red glow as he snuck a quick glance at it, Ryu unconsciously increased his pace, fighting off the sudden feeling that they weren't going to get there in time.

"We will make it, we will save him, we will make it..." Apparently, Tsuki was fighting the same feeling as well, for her muttering had reached a pitch that Ryu could hear as she increased her faster-than-normal pace.

"Yes, we will," Ryu whispered in agreement, his grip increasing on the item until its heat almost seared his skin. "We have to..."

"We're here!" Jumping at the sudden cry, the pair entered the clearing at an less then graceful way, Ryu's hand flying out of his pocket and the oh-so-precious stone skidding across the ground...

_The groups had come together..._

_Both good and foul..._

_Friend and foe..._

_Come together were it all started..._

_But the obstacles were not over..._

_For the knight was defeated..._

_The villain was in power..._

_And the stone was lost..._

Ahiru could not believe what her stubborn knight was doing; true, her attempt to dance with Autor and find out what was troubling him that way had failed, but that didn't mean that they couldn't try talking to him some more, try one more time to reason with him. Maybe if she had returned as Princess Tutu as well as Ahiru-the-girl, she would have been able to help Autor...

Fakir had finally confessed that he felt the same way she had, had been wounded defending her from Autor's rage, allowed her to try to dance with Autor as Ahiru-the-girl, and was now throwing his life away in order to save hers, leaving himself defenseless so she could live.

Wrapping her arms tightly around Fakir's kneeling, trembling form, a fresh wave of tears began to fall like rain at the thought that she had dragged him into her her failings as well, dragged him down along with her. At least, this way, they would be together in the end.

A sudden shout brought Ahiru out of her morbid thoughts as a familiar glitter of ruby flashed in the corner of her eye, bringing with it a surge of hope as sudden as the shout had been.

As Ahiru jumped out from behind Fakir, not stopping when she heard his fear-filled cry, to snatch up the precious stone; three things happened at the same time, three things that would change her life forever:

First was a familiar voice crying out, "Ahiru-zura! Fakir-zura!" as Uzura also leapt across the clearing, her intent focused entirely on her two friends, ignoring the boy with the sword in her single minded glee.

Second was an unfamiliar voice crying out, "The heart piece!" that drew Ahiru's attention for only a few seconds; just long enough to spot a boy with ebony hair being held back by a girl with ember hair as he also tried to grab a hold of the gem just inches from Ahiru's fingertips.

"It's 'forgiveness', Ahiru!" The boy cried, his friend's grip on him slacking not a whit, "It will make everything alright again, but you need to put it back where it belongs! Do it, do it **now**!"

"Hurry, Ahiru!" The girl cried, her voice full of equal parts pain and fear, "I can't hold him back much longer! You **must** do it now!"

It was right as Ahiru was snatching up the elusive heart piece, wondering distractedly at how those odd strangers knew her name, that the final and most important act decided to occur.

Fakir had been thrown to the ground as Ahiru had dived for the heart piece, the wound in his side being hit by a stray root as he fell. The pain prevented him from rising back up again, but it gave him a front row view to the horror of Autor sweeping his sword back up before aiming it at Ahiru's unprotected back.

Two voices rose up as one; one in love, the other in hate:

"Ahiru, behind you!"

"Quit dodging and receive your punishment, false princess!"

Then the entirety of the forest held it's breath as the blade dived home.

_Was the princess too late...?_

_Did the followers not come in time...?_

_Had the villain won...?_

_The world waited..._

_Waited and watched..._

_And read..._

Charon dropped the few pages he was holding and wearily closed his eyes, suddenly afraid to read another sentence. "This is too much, much too much for my poor old heart..."

He knew he shouldn't have picked up Fakir's manuscript, shouldn't have touched something so important that Fakir had spent weeks working on, but from the very first word he had been entrapped and unable to stop, caught up in the story that had put Fakir's life in a spin. Now, he was deathly afraid to start up again, lest his 'poor old heart' would break...

He hadn't been much of a reader in his time, he could count the books he read on one hand; but never, in all his years, had he ever read something so full of love and heartbreak, hope and despair. It made him want to cry, laugh, shout and whimper all at the same time as the story had progressed, pulling him in with every syllable, every little pen stroke.

The parts that had touched him the most were of when Fakir had written of his 'princess'. It was evident in every word that he had wrote that his 'son' cared for her very much, it also filled Charon with the whisper of familiarity, as if he had meet her once before... a long time ago.

He hated the strange, ominous writings that had squeezed between Fakir's beautiful words; for every time that had been a moment when the story would turn out happy, those words had made it filled to the brim with sorrow, when a moment of peace would come along, the next was one of chaos and heartbreak. Charon, simply reading the story, could hardly stand it; he could only imagine how the people **living** it were feeling...

Still leaning ever so slightly back with his eyes closed, Charon tightened his fist angrily around the papers that were still in his hand, not caring if he wrinkled them as much as he would have if it had been only Fakir's work alone, only Fakir's thoughts he held. He made a quiet, simple vow; a vow no one heard save he, he and the ancestor of his writer son.

**I will find the one who changed this, find him and make him pay for trying to hurt my son...**

He stayed like that for a few minutes, acutely aware that someone had heard him, someone heard him and was going to help him make that vow come true. Satisfied, Caron turned is mind to other matters, matters of just as much import.

For now, all that mattered was what to come, if he had the strength to finish what he started. Could he stand just sitting here, simply reading what was happening only a few miles away? Would he even make it if he decided to leave now and help his son?

Sighing once and bracing himself for what was to come, Charon opened his eyes, unclenched is fist, and smoothed out the pages in his hand as he began to read again, hoping against hope that Fakir's writing was stronger than the stranger's...

_It was a single moment..._

_One misdirected act..._

_One thing spoken wrongly..._

_And all would end in sorrow..._

Fakir had to take a few minutes to remember how to breathe, the pain in his chest a reminder that oxygen was essential to his survival. No one in the clearing could really blame him for not daring to breathe for so long, for the sight in front of them looked as if one wrong gust of wind would send it toppling down.

At Fakir's shout, Ahiru had turned to meet Autor's falling blade and, in either an instinct to protect herself or to stop the sword, she had thrown her hands up in defense. Hands that held a piece of Autor's heart, the piece that could stop this whole mess from happening...

Autor, however, had seen the ruby-red glow coming for him and had stopped his downward motion before he inadvertently received the heart piece, Ahiru's fingertips brushing his shirt, the tip of his blade millimeters from her chest.

For either to move meant either death or salvation for the other, so they were locked in a stalemate, a silent battle of wills; Ahiru's wide eyes pleading for Autor to relent and make is heart whole again while Autor's eyes showed ever-so-clearly the inner struggle he had of accepting Ahiru's silent request or of plunging his blade that last inch and ending her life.

"What are you waiting for?" The complete silence of clearing let Fakir hear the newcomer's whispered demand, as well as his friend shushing him, even though they were several feet away, "Just do it, you foolish girl!"

Although Fakir **did** agree with the boy's line of thought, he knew that Ahiru would never force her own will on someone else, even if it meant she could save them or herself. She would either talk their ear off in an attempt to get them to change their mind or try to dance the solution to the problem out of them, like she tried to do before all this happened.

"Damn it all!" The boy growled again, trying to pry himself from the girl's grasp, but she wasn't making it any more easier on him."If you don't do it soon, by Kami, **I'll** go over there and shove-"

"Quiet!" Fakir hissed, his voice leaving no room for argument as he gathered a confused Uzura into his arms, "I **will** kill you if your interfering causes Autor to end Ahiru's life!"

His vicious statement threw everyone into a morbid silence and now they waited, waited to see whose will was stronger, what path Autor would take...

Even energetic Uzura was silent, her constant drum tapping grew still as her gaze kept darting between the two newcomers, Ahiru and Autor's silent battle, and Fakir's fear stricken face as he came to the realization that there was nothing he could do or say without hurting the one he loved.

Nothing save sit there, his heart beating its painful way up his throat, as the mental battle finally came to a conclusion and Autor decided Ahiru's fate.

_The puppet had made it's choice..._

_His blade felt a life-beat at its tip..._

_Would it plunge forward...?_

_End the beat in its rhythm...?_

_Or would it move away...?_

High pitched screams of animalistic rage and frustration echoed throughout the entirety of Karasu Manor, making all inhabitants shiver and cower in fright. It resounded off stone and mortar, beam and ply, sounding as if a symphony of ghost were raising voice to past wrongs.

One individual, more brave than the rest, made her way to her Master's chambers, intent on finding out why he was screaming with such fever. Opening the door just in time for a vase to be smashed against the frame, she fixed the enraged inhabitant with a stern gaze.

"My Lord-"

"_**Get out**_!" He screamed, throwing another vase, causing the maid to duck in order to avoid being hit this time. "Get out and take all your posturing, self importance with you! This is no concern of yours, you meddling twit!"

Only many years of faithful service kept the irritated maid in her place, even going as far as catching the next thing thrown as she calmly stated, "You are scaring the servants, sir."

"Let them cower, the sniveling worms!" The last of the vases, a commemorative plate and a glass figure were saved as his tirade went on, "Wait until I find those back-stabbing, worthless children of mine! I'll give them plenty of things be afraid of, those no good pieces of..."

As his mutterings went on, the maid noticed something odd about the room she was in; the last time someone had dared to venture in there, the frightened maid had claimed that a 'hellish, unearthly glow' was coming from a pillar in the dead center of the Master's camber. All she saw of the pillar now was broken pieces scattered all along the floor, the largest resting in front of an ornate mirror half covered by a heavy, knitted drape.

"Sir, what-"

Faster than she could ever possibly imagine, her Master's ranting was cut short as he pulled the drape forward so that the mirror was fully covered and halted the maid's outstretched hand with a half-crazed gaze that completely terrified her, much more than his earlier screams had.

"Never," he hissed, voice hoarse with suppressed anger and his shouting fit from before, "never, **ever** touch this mirror, no matter how curious you are. It is worth more than both our lives combined and if you crack it even an inch, I **will** end your miserable life. Do you understand me?"

Nodding shakily, the maid finally came to the realization that the rest of the household had come to many days ago; their Master had lost his mind. Edging slowly away lest the insanity overcome her as well, she was nevertheless brought up short by his softly spoken order.

"I'm going to need another 'student' to teach, Maid." Daring to glance behind her, the maid saw that her Master had removed the drape so that an edge of the mysterious mirror was showing through one more, allowing him to run a finger along it's gilded frame. Distorted shadows casted from a light that seemed to come from **inside** the mirror threw his face in shadow as a twisted smile overtook his features.

"The last one failed at his lesson. Pray that you find me someone more adept this time."

Nodding hurriedly, the maid exited, praying to all the spirits she knew she never had to enter that room again.

_Hidden plans were again made..._

_The villain put another scheme in motion..._

_Another plot to end the story..._

_For it seemed the last one failed..._

She was holding him as he wept, sword lying forgotten beside him, an ugly reminder of what he had almost done. Holding him when he didn't even deserve such a loving embrace, when only minutes ago he had threatened to end her meddling, end her life. Now, here he was, wrapped up in her arms as if he was her lost child that had finally come home.

"I-I'm s-s-s-" he tried to say it, tried to make the right words come out, but they felt so inadequate, so **hollow**, compared to the depth of the emotions he was feeling; the self disgust at the fact that he had been used as a silly puppet in some sick game, the absolute horror that he had almost ended another's life, whether intentional or no, and the complete distress that he would never be able to tell them just how truly, **deeply** ashamed he was of his actions.

"Shh, shh, my friend" she whispered, softly stroking his hair in comfort, but only making him feel even more disgusted with himself, even more ashamed. He didn't deserve this embrace, didn't deserve it **at all**... "It's alright now, everything is back to normal, don't worry..."

Everything was **not** 'alright', couldn't she **see **that? Didn't she know how **close** she came to death? How hard he had to fight himself to keep from plunging his blade into her heart? The easy way she had forgiven him of his horrendous actions was just making the whole thing that much harder...

Pulling out of her arms, he stood, turning away from her confused gaze and began to make his way out of the clearing and away from those who had sacrificed so much, put so much of themselves on the line, and almost had it torn away by his selfishness and pointless greed.

Walking hurriedly past the ex-knight, he was suddenly stopped in his tracks by a hand on his shoulder. Making no move, he readied himself for whatever the writer would throw at him. He did not, however, expect the words that came forth from the older boy.

"Ahiru forgives you, and that means I forgive you as well; even though I was ready to kill you for what you were about to do, your heart piece missing meant that you were not in charge of your actions, that all of this wasn't your fault."

"B-but-"

"Tell me one thing, and then I'll release you..." The ex-knight turned him so that they were face to face, forest green eyes boring into golden brown, "Would you have tried to kill Ahiru if you had your whole heart?"

Shaking his head in denial, Autor pulled away from Fakir's hand and ran away from Ahiru's protests that he'd return. He dodged the hand the boy raised and pushed by the girl, who took a more upfront way of stopping him.

Crashing through the woods he had entered only moments before, Autor ignored the shouts and cries of frustration behind him as he put as much distance between himself and the group behind him.

He knew that Ahiru had forgiven him, he believed that she truly meant it, but it would be a long time before Autor could forgive himself.

-----0-----0-----0-----0-----

_**And so our story ends for today. What awaits us tomorrow? A sad ending? A happy ending? Or maybe...?**_

-----0-----0-----0-----0-----

_A/N: -hides behind couch to avoid livid readers- Now, I know you guys want to kill me, not that I really blame you, but I have a legitimate excuse for the delay in an update:_

_My power cord snapped; a seventy dollar piece of metal __**snapped**__ when the children I baby-sit decided to play with my laptop. (Needless to say, I was __**very**__ vexed with them)._

_Then I got into a fight with the youngest of my sisters after I finally acquired a new power cord and my laptop screen was busted. (This is why I __**love**__ my family! -sarcasm heavily applied here-)._

_Finally, I got the momentousness of a cold/flus that had been floating around my house for the past couple of weeks and I didn't want to write when I'm feeling so icky, cause then most, if not all, of the characters would have died because I was in such a nasty mood._

_So, I hope that this chapter was worth the wait I put you guys through. If not, please don't give up on me just yet!_


	7. A Moment In Time

**Chapter Six: A Moment In Time**

_The Lord's plan had failed..._

_For the moment..._

_Now the Duck-girl and Knight were alone..._

_Well, almost..._

There was silence in the clearing after Autor left for the space of three heartbeats, enough for the occupants to realize that what had happened had really transpired, before everyone started talking at once. There were shouting, demands, threats of violence and joyful cries of reunion, but all of that barely dented the fog that surrounded Ahiru and she barely noticed Fakir's hand on her shoulder as he asked if she was alright.

In the space of a few hours-moments, really-Ahiru had been confessed to, had been changed back into a human, had been held at sword point, had tried to dance as Princess Tutu without actually being Princess Tutu, had nearly lost the one she loved and had just barely saved someone who might one day be her friend... Ahiru was exhausted and felt like giggling at the random thought that she had been saddened by the fact that nothing had happened while she had been a simple duck. If only she could have seen into the future, then she would've been grateful for the last few moments of peace! It wasn't that she wasn't happy to be human once again and to have her deepest wish fulfilled, but this was a bit much!

"Why is she giggling like that?" A voice that held a slight note of annoyance asked, reminding Ahiru of Fakir when she first started to get to know him, back when she thought he was trying to keep Mytho from getting his heart for selfish reasons...

"Use your brain, Ryu! You think **you'd** be perfectly fine after the day **she's** had?" Another voice, a female(her voice was a bit softer and higher)this time, asked dryly and with more than a little of the annoyance that her partner had. It made Ahiru laugh louder as she felt Fakir pick her up, only a slight wince betraying any discomfort that he might have felt, and start to carry her out of the clearing. "Personally, I'm more surprised that she isn't **crying**!"

Ahiru had felt the wince-despite Fakir trying to hide it-and immediately stopped laughing as she was reminded of the wound he suffered while fighting Autor, the wound he suffered while trying to protect **her**. "If it hurts to carry me, I can walk, Fakir... You shouldn't have to, anyway, your side-"

"-is perfectly fine," came Fakir's harsh reply, making Ahiru look at him in frightened surprise: His eyes were narrow slits in his face, his lips were compressed into a thin line, and he was staring straight ahead as they walked, ignoring the boy's voice behind them that demanded explanations for what had happened as well as what they were doing now and demanding that they come back while the female voice that Ahiru heard earlier shushed him, telling him that it wasn't the time. It was a frightening expression and Ahiru quickly wracked her memory for something she said or did that might have put that look there, resolving to solve the problem as soon as she could.

As she was doing this, Fakir caught her staring and stopped her from looking away when their gazes locked. He instead just looked into her eyes as if he was searching for something, something that he desperately needed to find, something she apparently didn't have; for, after a few minutes, his mouth turned down and he moved his gaze from her face to the woods again. "You just have been transformed and had to deal with Autor. With our luck, you would have tripped over something and broken your ankle, klutz that you are."

Ahiru's heart sank right down to her toes even though she knew that was Fakir-speak for saying he was worried about her, the fact that Fakir was carrying her while he had a wound on his side just proved that she was a burden where Fakir should not have one, that her returning was just a prelude to trouble for the village of Kinkan... She wondered if Fakir was thinking if it was a good idea that he turned her back into a girl when she did more harm to him than good, even when she was just trying to help. Maybe he should... Maybe she should just...

Growling lowly, Fakir seemed to be able pick up on the fact that Ahiru was contemplating asking him to turn her back into a duck-and leave her like that this time-so that he wouldn't have to deal with her stupidity, for the hands holding her tightened to an almost painful degree, causing Ahiru to gasp in surprise, brought out of her depressing thoughts by the sudden pain of the grip. Opening her mouth to tell Fakir to loosen his grip a little so that it didn't hurt so much, Ahiru was cut off by his angry voice overlapping her own soft request.

"Don't ever ask someone to dance again until after you pass all of Neko-sensei's classes!" His voice was as harsh as before, but this time it carried a bit of desperation in it that had Ahiru gaping at him in open mouthed wonder. Where was the stiff, unbending boy that just barked at her to stop doing stupid things? That told her nearly every day that she was always worrying about stupid things? The man that was holding her was a completely different animal, and that frightened her a little... "Seeing Autor look at you like that, like you were the one to blame for my mistake, seeing the sword almost stab you... Dammit, Ahiru, I thought this was over when we defeated the Raven!"

Fakir pressed Ahiru even tighter against him then, startling her so much she let loose a soft quack that had him chuckling as he pressed his face into her hair, for which she was partially grateful for because it meant that he couldn't she how red she had turned; on the other hand, she had just been thrown against the dirt and spent the last couple of months as a duck, swimming in a rather tepid pond. Did her hair even smell **clean**? What **did** it smell like? Did Fakir... **like** it? She was just about to ask him when he once more interrupted her.

"I thought I almost lost you again..."

Ahiru drew in a startled gasp of air, raising her embarrassed gaze up to meet Fakir's and was even more shocked by the sheen of tears there; she had seen him cry only **once** before and the only reason she had seen it then was because he thought she was just a simple little duck. Having him weep like this in front of her cause a few tears of her own to well up, much like they had on that day so long ago, and Fakir's smile seemed to say that he was remembering it as well...

It also hit her that he had to confessed to loving her, but Ahiru had yet to tell him how she felt, not that all of that was her fault. Part of the reason was, however, a deep, bone chilling fear. It was a fear that was only partially founded by the thought that she would disappear in a flash of light if she told Fakir she loved him, the other part was that he only told her he loved her as a way to get her to turn back into a girl because he was as lonely as she was...

That fear was dissolved as soon as she looked into his eyes and saw how well and truly afraid he had been, like the time he thought they had lost Mytho to the Raven's power. Now the only thing that held in her own confession was the thought that she would disappear; she knew that Fakir wouldn't write that happening, but what if he had no choice...? Swallowing down her words of love, Ahiru simply reached up and cupped Fakir's face.

"I'm not going anywhere."

Their eyes connected and a spark of something flew through Ahiru's body as the look in Fakir's eyes reminded her of the emotion she had seen earlier, the one that told to tell Fakir not to listen to Worry so much. The emotion she was frightened that he had lost, the emotion that had scared her once Mytho had reclaimed it, the emotion she could feel bubbling in her chest and pushing past her fears, her lips, making her almost break down and just **tell** him...

_The Knight and Duck-girl were moments away from what both had dreamed of..._

_The Man and Women held their breath, hoping for a happy ending as well..._

_But it was not to be..._

_For there was a danger in the words..._

_A danger none of them knew of..._

_A danger that might claim the life that was just saved..._

Charon was so focused on the story in his hands that he failed to see the muted pink glow behind him, so desperate to read what would happen next he did not even realize that someone had come up behind him and that someone was reading over his shoulder until the person spoke.

"He's a rather morbid writer, isn't he?"

Charon jumped up in shock from the desk, complete with a startled yelp as he scattered pages around the room in a odd sort of hail, spinning on his heel to see who had spoken to him in a manner that an advanced ballerina would envy. When he did see who it was, his jaw dropped in utter shock, for he could not believe what his eyes were telling him, could not believe the simple truth standing in front of him as his senses tried to process just exactly what was going on...

There had been pictures of the man standing before him in every history book in their small village and even some paintings in a few homes; some depicted him as tall and lean, with a rather generous amount of mustache, others portrayed him as short and fat, saying he had a habit of chuckling rather maniacally, and others still showed him as a man of no outstanding features that tended to bleed into the wallpaper... Yet, just by standing in front of him, Charon could tell that this was the real deal, that this was Drosselmeyer-san, in the flesh and bone.

Some of the depictions were right, which meant that various people had seen him, or at least had been told about him; Drosselmeyer-san **was** tall, but not overly lean like so many claimed, and his head did **not** touch the ceiling of Charon's home. At best, he would give the writer only a few inches over himself and would go on to add that while the supposedly dead man did have a beard, it was not a gotee like many claimed, but rather an old sort of eruption from his chin that seemed to be trying to get away from the body it was attached to. Add to the fact that Drosselmeyer-san seemed to be inclined to feathers with an old sort of billowy dress style and Charon found himself more intrigued by the man's presence than intimidated.

Seeing that his appearance did not garner anything after the initial shock, Drosselmeyer's grin slipped ever so slightly as he continued with his statement as if there had not been a pause. "The man that has been adding to Fakir's work, the man that you had cursed for writing in the story that your 'son' had worked so hard on. He wasn't always like this; before everything that had happened, he would write the most amazingly boring stories that you could think of. Every single one had a happy ending and none of them had the drama, the overwhelming trials, the very life that mine had... yet, now he writes as if these children were his puppets to play with, when he knows how much I hate to share."

"They aren't your puppets anymore, either," Charon growled as he remembered what Fakir had told him following those dark days of the Raven; about how the whole thing had been a broken story, written by the man standing in front of him. "They stopped being your puppets when that damn bird was killed, when that Prince kid left and the wall surrounding the city crumbled... and they will stay not being your puppets if I have anything to say about it!"

Drosselmeyer put up his hands-one of which promptly fell off-in a placating gesture and gave Charon the kind of smile that reminded the man just who it was he was talking to, which in turn made him even more resolved to never make Drosselmeyer smile again. "I'm more than willing to let them keep their free will, as your young Fakir has taken over the narration of this story, in a rather inciting voice as well. My interest in the fact that someone else has been interfering with what your 'son' has written and if he continues, this rather interesting tale will turn rather morbid. More morbid than any of my tales and everyone your young charge knows will probably die, the boy included if he's feeling particularly spiteful... and something tells me that he's in the mood to be downright malevolent."

Charon felt his heart sink straight through the floorboards as he thought of what the supposedly dead writer just said, thought about the characters that he had just been reading about, his son first among them; despite the fact that they never met face-to-face, Charon could tell that his son felt a great deal about them just by the way that Fakir wrote about them, particularly the duck-girl that seemed such a large part of his son's life... and there was still that nagging feeling that he had met the girl before... Not mention the fact that all of this was because of his son writing a story that a deranged psychopath wanted... "And you know this man?"

"Of course I do," Drosselmeyer stated, his smile growing in magnitude and depleting in sanity, making Charon take an almost unconscious step back when he leaned down and casually reattached his dropped hand. "He's my brother."

"_**Brother**_?"

"Yes, my brother," Drosselmeyer looked offended at the shock that colored Charon's tone, even going to far as to roll his eyes at the man. "Even I have family, despite what many writers claim... Why, he even was the inspiration for _The Prince and the Raven_!"

"_**What**_?" Charon could no longer support himself and sank back into the chair he had spent the last few hours in, heedless of the papers he crumpled while doing so, unable to think of anything beside the fact the man that many believed to be a psychopath, that a covert group were so desperate to get him to stop writing that they _**cut off his hands**_, had a brother and that brother was quickly turning out to be _**even worse than the man standing in front of him!**_ "This can't be possible..."

"It is possible, Charon, and that is the very reason he has turned his sights on your 'son', doing his very best to destroy the boy and everything he holds dear..." Drosselmeyer's voice had dipped into a low, hypnotic tone that had Charon unconsciously leaning forward to hear what he had to say, caught in the man's large, black gaze. "He is angry that the boy is attempting to write a happy ending for him and the duck-girl Ahiru, detesting the fact that their star-crossed lovers ending is being thwarted. He, like me, cannot affect the story directly, but he can act through others and attempt to deride Fakir's story that way..."

Charon felt his heart constrict at the news that was just dropped in his lap and once more cursed the fate that had befallen his writer-son, wishing as much as he had before that there was some way he had the power to rewrite Fakir's story. Swallowing hard against the onrush of emotion that Drosselmeyer's comment brought on, Charon istead focused on the problem at hand: how to beat the man that was interfering with his son's life. "Alright, you said that you based _The Prince and the Raven_ on him... Was... Is he the basis for the Raven...?"

Drosselmeyer's eyes grew even more dark as he focused completely on Charon, still smiling that manic gin and making Charon swallow hard, realizing that this was the man that had wrapped the entire town in his grip for as long as the oldest of the village had remembered... "Of course he was, my dear Charon; I couldn't be the bad guy in my own story, now could I?"

_Writer and father had banded together..._

_Fighting a common enemy..._

_Each with his own reason..._

_Each eager to stop the reason behind the tragedy..._

_For the Lord threatened not one story..._

_Not one life..._

_But two..._

The maid had proved rather successful with finding him another pupil to mold and once she had left, he immediately set about finding out what the child's greatest weakness was, then he removed it as soon as the weakness was made known, despite the fact that he no longer had all the ingredients needed to do so. It was a risk to do so as it was, but his determination proved well worth it when he extracted the troublesome emotion. The girl lost her incessant chatter and became a bit more subdued, something both he and his ears appreciated as he informed her of the mission her predecessor failed at, something that he would punish the boy for when this story was made his as it should be...

"You knew Ahiru before, didn't you, my dear?" He questioned, walking around the girl, whose solemn, quiet nature was a vast contrast to her earlier behavior, to the basin in the middle of the room that had been repaired and once more glowing the hypnotic red that laid there before, "She was your friend before this past year, wasn't she? Where has she been since then? Why hasn't she seen you in the last year, in the last couple of _**days**_, even? Why hasn't she talked, walked, or even been seen near you? Doesn't that sound like she's ashamed of you, that she's embarrassed to be your friend? It's strange, considering that Fakir has been living with her this entire year now, so it must be that she thinks she's too good for you... but it is not her fault, my sweet, not that poor, innocent girl. We both know this: Ahiru is a simple girl and easily swayed by sweet words, words that Fakir has a mastery of, that he can twist to suit his needs. So, the real enemy here is... Fakir."

The girl's expression had not changed throughout the entirety of his speech; yet when he mentioned Fakir's name, a look of extreme anger that most would have been shocked to see on her normally pleasant face overtook her features, making the man in the shadows grin in triumph. It seemed that the emotion he had taken hadn't been the girl's only weakness... He could kill two birds with one stone if he played this carefully, and he had plenty of practice with being careful...

"Yes, Ahiru was perfectly fine with you, loved you even, before Fakir decided to turn his sights on her... She listened to your every word, until Fakir decided to whisper in her ear. Now, you have lost one of your closest, dearest friends, she has been trapped in the boy's home and now she has avoided you for a whole year because that boy corrupted her into thinking you were a nuisance because he was jealous of the relationship that you had with her."

He had turned to caress his mirror, something he had a habit of doing for the entirety that she had been there, so he didn't see the single tear that slipped down the girl's face and the fact that the anger had slipped back into the stoic mask she wore at the beginning. He turned just in time to see her exit the room, back straight and without looking back, which caused a slightly unhinged smile to spread across his face in a way that could only be described-and has been described-as 'creepy',

"Perfect. I was wrong before; getting rid of the girl won't change anything, she's not the one interfering with my story, I have to get rid of the source... With him out of the way, the girl will lose her will to fight and the way will be clear..." A flicker in the glass caught his attention, but when he looked closer, there was nothing there. Brushing it off as a trick of the light, the man rang for one of his maids again, a manic gleam to his eyes that made the woman who entered suppress a shiver.

"Watch that girl. Make sure that she finishes her mission before she gets even close to that damn duck-girl. Don't let her out of your sight for even a minute," His smile cut off whatever the maid was going to say as he continued on, completely oblivious to the tremor that shook the woman's body as he lifted his face to the rafters of his home and laughed long and low, "Worry not, she is waited for you at the front gate. I also want word if you see my original student. Don't interact with him, but make note of where he is going and why..."

The maid nodded once, made a shaky bow and made her way out of the room.

The man walked over to the basin, dipping a hand into the garnet liquid and letting it soak for a few seconds as he reveled in the feeling that laid inside. It had been a particularly strong emotion and the girl had been quiet adamant about holding on to it, yet he had been very persuasive in getting her to change her mind; his brother wasn't the only one that had skill with words, after all... "Soon, this story will belong to me, as it should have from the beginning, as it should have as soon as that puppet pieced his heart... Soon, it will all be mine..."

_**Soon!**_

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_**And so our story ends for today... What will our story be for tomorrow...? Will it have a happy ending...? A sad ending...? Or...?**_

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_A/N: Wow, has it really been over a year since I updated this story? Really? Damn, I am soooo sorry you guys, I really didn't mean for this to happen! I just got so wrapped up in my job, my family troubles, the fact that my muse was hiding under my couch and wouldn't get out, no matter how many cookies I offered it. I'm not really sure if I even like this chapter, but I don't want to leave you guys hanging again, so here you go._

_I'm going to re-watch Princess Tutu and see if that makes my muse come out of hiding. I also appreciate any feedback that you guys want to give me. Je ne!_


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